


Perfect

by LearnedFoot



Series: Peter/Tony Ficlets and Drabbles [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Peter Parker, First Time, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 06:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20421176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/pseuds/LearnedFoot
Summary: There are a lot of things that should make Peter embarrassed right now, starting with the fact that the first time Mr. Stark kissed him—about half an hour ago, though it feels like another world—he came in his pants within seconds.





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick bit of porn, originally written for the prompt “your ideal bottom” and posted [here](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/386028.html?thread=2265689068#cmt2265689068).
> 
> CNTW because Peter’s age isn’t mentioned. It can be whatever you imagine.

There are a lot of things that should make Peter embarrassed right now, starting with the fact that the first time Mr. Stark kissed him—about half an hour ago, though it feels like another world—he came in his pants within seconds. In his defense, _Mr. Stark_ was _kissing him_, and, wow, have you _felt_ what it’s like to have his beard rub your chin while his lips brush yours and his hands, big and calloused and strong, wrap around your neck and hip, pulling you against his body? Because, yeah.  
  
And then there’s the fact that he came again about five minutes after that, the first time Mr. Stark’s fingers grazed his dick. That made Mr. Stark chuckle deep in the back of his throat, stroking Peter’s thigh and joking, “I guess we’ll have to work our way up to a blowjob.”   
  
Which, first of all: holy crap, Mr. Stark wants to give him a blowjob, _what?!_ He’s still wrapping his brain around that concept. And second of all, it gave Peter the bright idea to drop to his knees, look up through his eyelashes in what he hoped was a sexy way, and say, “Or I could give you one right now?” He meant it to come out confident and flirtatious, but it seemed more like a question. Which was appropriate, since it turned out he can’t even do _that_ without coming, untouched, within minutes.  
  
(Again, in his defense: that was _Mr. Stark’s dick_, and it was _in his mouth_, warm and heavy, stretching his lips, tasting salty with precome, and—fuck when it hit the back of his throat he might as well have been in heaven.)   
  
So, yeah, it’s basically a miracle he hasn’t run out of the lab in shame yet. Except that every time he has another unexpected orgasm, letting out an unwanted moan, body jerking, Mr. Stark looks at him like he’s the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. After the aborted attempt with the blowjob, he’d hauled Peter to his feet, growled, “I can’t take it anymore,” and thrown him across the nearest desk, exactly like about a million fantasies Peter’s had over the years, except way hotter because it’s real.  
  
And now he’s pounding him. Oh, prep was sweet and careful—and yes, Peter had come two more times, Mr. Stark laughing and kissing him through it—and so were the first few strokes, but Peter orgasming around his dick had apparently been the last straw, because now Mr. Stark is driving into him with abandon, hard and fast and taking, nails carving little grooves into the flesh on his side.   
  
“Fuck, kid, do you have any idea what you do to me?” he pants between thrusts.   
  
Peter wants to answer. Maybe something quippy about how yeah, he has some clue, does Mr. Stark not see what _he_ does to _Peter_? But the breath has been knocked out of him; his ability to translate thought into coherent speech is gone, lost to pleasure so intense he can barely see. The best response he can manage is a whine, high and needy.   
  
“Yeah, something like that.” Mr. Stark leans forward, biting a possessive mark onto his shoulder and Peter spasms, another orgasm hitting him.   
  
Mr. Stark slows down but doesn’t stop, riding him through it, until Peter is babbling and begging, every nerve sparking, body raw with want.   
  
“Do you need me to stop?” Mr. Stark asks, nuzzling against his ear. “Just say the word, I won’t mind.”  
  
Peter shakes his head. He forces himself to form coherent words: “Please don’t. Please, harder, sir.”  
  
“Well, if you ask so nicely.” Mr. Stark picks up the pace again. “God, you’re perfect. Think you got another one in you?”  
  
Peter nods. He’s not actually sure, but he’s definitely game to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is loved <3


End file.
